guiltyborne
by Judithan
Summary: Sol just wants to defeat the monsters of the land, release the curse of night, and go back to what Yharnam was before the curse. Sin just hopes to make it through the next few hours alive. Teaming up isn't exactly the best solution, but everyone knows the good Hunter can't say no to a kind human in need. That is, as long as they stay human.
The Hunter is quiet, the only sound he makes is his boots hitting wet stone. He walks at a brisk pace, checking behind him every few paces so as to avoid an attack from the rear. Every step forward is one more step into uncertainty, into possible death. It doesn't bother him as much anymore, at least. Death has only become more of an annoyance to him, rather than a real fear, or even a permanence. A Hunter cannot die until the night is over, it would seem.

This curse is the only thing keeping his body alive, it would seem. He lights a cigarette, almost as a form of protest. A pack a day would have surely killed him by this point, but this night doesn't fucking end, so who knows how long it's been.

He doesn't know what time it is anymore. It's just dusk, forever and ever. It's annoying.

Yharnam has turned into something of a hellscape since the Hunter's night began. What once was a beautiful victorian who's-who of society has recently spiraled into a barricaded nightmare land littered with angry mobs and disgusting monsters. Not that the Hunter can really complain, though. He lives for the fight and wouldn't have it any other way, after all, what better way to spend an eternal hell than doing battle with horrifying creatures? At least, that's what he thought before going against the Cleric Beast, only to be pillaged with night terrors any time he closed his eyes.

Since then, he had developed heavy bags under his eyes, as well as a heavy smoking habit. The Hunter was lucky enough that the merchants he frequented for equipment were able to procure him some cheap relief. Well, cheap on the coin, not on his lungs.

Coming out to a nice clearing he hears some chatting from the local locked-up residences but doesn't pay them much mind. They're catty and hardly worth the Hunter's breath. If anything, he's more interested in his surroundings, the opening he came out to being something more pleasant on the eyes - though the decaying trees and littered leafs all over the fountain weren't always his sense of 'beauty' he would take it any day over the rest of this nightmare land.

A noise to the right draws the Hunter's attention from his thoughts, and he draws his weapon out faster than he himself can even process -it's not even instinct at this point, it's compulsory. The noise came from a dark corner, void of any real lighting, and with another step forward he can see the outline of a cowering figure.

An enemy? There's no way to really know until he strikes.

"Wh-who's there?!" A human, it would seem, and a gentle one at that. They don't have a weapon on them from what the Hunter can tell, but he doesn't take the chance and continues his battle stance. "Are you… a Hunter?"

The Hunter doesn't answer verbally, just nods slowly. A sigh is heard from the shadowed figure, who then emerges into the light of dusk. They're no more than a boy, covered in blood and bandages. Their right eye is covered in bandages, as though it's nonexistent. The Hunter doesn't dismiss the notion but loosens his battle stance nonetheless. A one-eye'd human wouldn't put up too much of a fight, unless they were to transform, but that takes time and would have been much more advantageous of them to have just done so beforehand rather than risk death. He figures it safe enough to let his guard up - at least for this person.

"Oh thank God, I was worried that you may have been part of the mob. I've been in hiding from them-" The boy is rambling, going on about something or other that the Hunter doesn't care much about. Something about this glimmer of innocence is nice at the very least. "How rude of me I haven't even introduced myself," The Hunter tries to stop them, but it's out before he can make a sound. "My name is Sin, it's a pleasure to meet-"

"Don't get comfortable, kid. I don't know who you are and I'm not interested." The Hunter finally remarks, gruff voice coming out almost like a thick cough. Those cigarettes were really going to do a number on his lungs by this point. He tries to leave but it stopped by a tug on his cape, and blue eyes staring back at him as though there was still some form of innocence left in the world.

"You… you're new, aren't you?" Sin states, voice somewhere between questioning and amused. Like some kind of stupid rhetorical bullshit. "On a night like this you need all the help you can get." He stretches a hand out, inviting the Hunter to shake it. Of course, he ignores the action and makes his way to leave.

"Not interested. I'm only in this for the pay off." Again, stopped by a little-bit-less-gentle tug on his cape, and more silent pleading by innocent eyes.

The Hunter can't stand being stuck in one place for too long, feels wrong… feels vulnerable.

"Hunter, please… let me assist you in some way…" It's at this point he realizes what Sin is really saying: please help me. There's no way he would survive without the Hunter.

How annoying.

The Hunter scratches his head, irritation levels rising quickly but he already knew the kind of bullshit he would be encountering in this kind of journey. He didn't sign that contract so he could leisurely stroll the nightmare night - he signed it to stay alive, to right the wrong of this land with the blood of it's monstrosities.

And apparently helping lost lambs was a part of this binding oath of a Hunter.

"Fine. Just stay close and follow my exact order the second I say it." Sin nods, excited yet clearly terrified. They begin to set off once more, continuing in the direction the Hunter had originally been going before getting distracted by this sudden pick-up.

"Hunter, is there a name I can call you? I'm sure there must be?" He's so very curious, so very innocent, but the bloody bandages on his left wrist and his right eye mean nothing but trouble. There's something going on with this boy, but it's not the Hunter's place to meddle. He already had enough meddling to do with destroying the monsters of the land.

"My name is Sol Badguy. No more questions. Let's go."

Another cigarette in his mouth, a quick light from the torch, and they're good to go. They walk into the crimson night in silence, the boy following a few steps behind the Hunter. If all goes well, they'll get through this night with Sin only losing a limb. After all, only the Hunters come back from peril unscathed.


End file.
